Learning to Start Over
by TheSongAllAlong13
Summary: After Spencer Reid loses Maeve, he doesn't think he'll ever get over her. But, one day, he enters a local used book store and meets Breeanna Rose Clemmins, the cashier. He is immediately interested by her Southern routes, and she is kind to him. What will happen after? (I'm horrible at summaries. Please give it a look and review!)
1. Meeting

Learning to Start Over

**"Sometimes the hardest part isn't letting go, but rather learning to start over."**

** ~Nicole Sobon**

When summer came to Quantico, Spencer Reid did not expect that the change of seasons would have such a great affect on him. The warmer weather seems to breathe even more life into the busy city. No longer are Spencer's coffee outings on his lunch break comfortable; there are too many people crowding into his favorite Starbucks to be able to find an empty seat. So, one day on his walk back to the office, Spencer decides to duck into a nearly empty used book store right down the street from Starbucks. He has plenty of time left on his break, and he was in need of a new book or two.

Spencer has to duck a little bit to get inside the front door of the establishment. He is met with the beautiful cool of an air conditioner, and the soft ding of the service bell above his head. The cashier jumps, and quickly sets the book that she has been reading down on the counter. "Good afternoon, sir."

Her accent immediately catches Spencer's attention: thick and Southern, something he rarely hears in a place like Quantico. "Good afternoon," he mumbles with the slightest amount of a smile possible.

Speaking to women has hurt Spencer ever since he lost Maeve. He doesn't completely understand why, but every time he tries to open his mouth to a woman -a barista, a stranger whose child is trying to wander off down the street, relatives of victims in the cases he works so hard to solve- he just tenses up. His voice comes out low and small, often to the point where he has to repeat himself more than once for the woman in question to understand.

"Do ya need any help navigating the shelves, sir?"

Spencer shakes his head. "No, thank you. You can go back to reading your book."

"Y're the first customer I've had all day, y'know. Very slow place."

Unable to come up with something to say, Spencer instead smiles a little more and heads into the shelves. He explores in silence, often lowering himself to his knees to check out the spines in the lower shelves. He can feel the eyes of the cashier following him, but stays quiet; the feeling of being watched is not oppressive, but rather curious. He reemerges with a few thick hardcover books on sociology, one of his favorite BAs he has achieved, and philosophy, the current BA he is working for. He lays the books on the counter and pulls out his wallet, now actually taking the time to look at the woman behind the counter.

Her long black hair is pulled back from her face in a ponytail that reaches just below her shoulderblades. She wears a plain white blouse and a soft brown skirt that reaches her knees. He can't help but eye her long legs and cowboy boots.

"Um, sir?"

Spencer is brought back to reality. "Yes?"

"$32.97 for the books."

"Oh, yes. So sorry." Spencer counts out the bills and hands them to her. She goes to hand the three cents back to him, but he instead closes her hand around them. "Keep it. You said that it's a slow place. You need all that you can get."

She smiles, and her voice is a wistful sigh. "If only everyone were like you."

Spencer blushes. "Well, thank you."

She shakes her head. "What's yer name?"

"Reid. I, um, I mean Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid."

The cashier can't help but giggle at his nervousness. "Aren't ya a bit young to be a doctor?"

"I have three doctorate degrees, as well as two BAs, though I'm working on getting my third in philosophy."

"Ho-lee smokes! I've never been in the presence of such a genius!"

Spencer smiles. "Thank you, um... What's your name, ma'am?"

She grins, her hazel eyes shining. "Breeanna Rose Clemmins."

"It's nice to meet you, Breeanna."

"Ya can call me Bree, ya can call me Rose, ya can call me Anna. Ya can call me anythin' ya please, Doctor Reid, as long as ya don't call me late for supper."

He chuckles. "I have to get back to work now, Breeanna. Hotch will have my head if I'm late..."

Breeanna smiles. "Have a lovely rest of yer day, and come on back sometime real soon."

"Of course." With that, Spencer leaves and walks back to the FBI headquarters.


	2. A Surprise

A Surprise

Author's Note: I do not own Criminal Minds or any characters involved with the show. I also do not own any of the quotes that I use in the beginning of chapters.

Also, Chapter 1 is supposed to be titles "Meeting"; I'm new to the setup of things here.

"**Reading was my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author's words reverberating in your head." **

** ~Paul Auster**

It is not until much later into the night that Spencer gets the opportunity to read his new books. He takes the bag that contains them into his living room after dinner is cleaned up and the dishwasher is running. He takes the three books out one by one and lays them on the coffee table. To his surprise, the bag still has a little more weight to it than a bag should.

Peering inside, he sees that there is another book at the bottom of the bag, smaller than his science books, with a neon blue cover. He picks it up. _The Fault in Our Stars _by John Green. Knowing he didn't buy this and confused, he opens the book up. _Breeanna Rose Clemmins _is written across the inside of the front cover, with a small note. _I think you could use a bit of a break from those sciencey books. All of that studying will send you insane. Try this; it's one of my favorites. ~Bree_

Spencer smiles to himself. How sweet of her. He looks up at the clock and sees that it's close to midnight. I'll just bring the book to work tomorrow and read it, seeing as how I finished all of my paperwork, he thinks to himself. How pleasant of a surprise.

The team doesn't have a new case by morning, and Spencer is the only one who finished all of his paperwork. He chuckles at his teammates, all drowing in backwashed paperwork and reports that need to be completed. He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out _The Fault in Our Stars. _Resting his feet up on his desk, Spencer starts to read.

"Is that what I think it is," Derek Morgan asks from his desk.

"Hm?" Spencer doesn't look up from the page he's on.

"Is the big, smart doctor actually reading the book that's made just about every teenager and adult to read it cry their eyes out?"

"Did you read it too?"

"Nah, not me. My aunt and cousins did."

"Very nice."

"You're reading a young adult romance novel. Who the hell gave you that?"

Spencer's cheeks redden slightly. "No one."

"Was it at least a pretty no one?"

Spencer smiles a little thinking of her. "I am not one to consider people by their looks. I look instead at their personality and mentality."

Derek chuckles. "Man, she must be a looker to get you rambling like that."

"She's not a piece of meat, Morgan. Don't talk about her that way."

Derek smirks. "You like her. I'm glad you're getting back on the saddle after Maeve..."

"I never said I like her, and I never said I'm getting back on the saddle."

"Kid, you're a profiler. How do you not see how bad you're slipping up on your tough act? Just face it; you think the girl's pretty or something."

Spencer sighs, knowing that he's been caught red-handed. "And if I do?"

Derek smiles at his friend. "Then I say go get her, Pretty Boy."

Spencer gives Morgan a nervous smile and returns to reading his gift.


	3. Another Visit

Another Visit

Author's Note: Thank you for all the favorites and follows! :) Oh, and the one review :D Just wanted to let you guys know that I won't be able to update for almost two weeks because I'm going on a short vacation...so after probably tomorrow there won't be anything new for a short while. Sorry!

**"I'm an inveterate bookstore wanderer. I read constantly, so I love a good bookstore. I can't help it."**

** ~David Crosby**

About two weeks later, Spencer finds himself walking down the street back toward the bookstore on his lunch break. He carries a reusable shopping bag full of books, hoping to help bring in some new life to the small store.

The bell dings above his head in his high-pitched tone, and he's met by the strangest scene he's seen in a long time. He immediately puts his shopping bag down on the floor and weaves his way through the shelves to Breeanna.

She's up on a ladder, a roll of tape and bits of paper resting on the top rung. Country music is blaring from the computer speakers at the front desk, and she sings along softly as she chooses one of the strips of paper, which Spencer sees now has a small length of string wound through a small hole punched in the top. She takes a small bit of tape and sticks it to the end of the string that isn't attached to the paper. Then, ever so precisely, she sticks the tape and the string to the ceiling, smoothing out the tape so its secure. She smiles as the paper starts to spin in the small breeze, and Spencer tries to read the words on the small scrap of paper, but can't.

Not wanting to disturb her, Spencer retraces his steps back to the front desk before Breeanna has fully descended from the ladder, her supplies in her hand. He watches as she folds the ladder and carries it back in his direction, careful not to hit anything.

Breeanna doesn't see Spencer until she reaches the end of the long aisle, only after hanging another two paper strips the same way she hung the first. Her face reddens slightly, and she leans the ladder against the wall. "Well, how-dy. I was starting to doubt that you'd come back, Spencer."

He smiles at her, and his voice comes out so low it's almost a whisper. "I was away for a little bit."

Breanna steps a little closer. "What was that? Y're so quiet."

Spencer clears his throat and tries again. His voice comes only a little bit louder. "I was away for a little bit."

"Ooh, where'd ya go?"

Spencer pauses here slightly, not wanting to get into the details of his team's most recent case in Austin, Texas: women in their twenties being abducted from karaoke bars and honky tonks, only to be found raped and dead three days later in the alleys of surrounding cities. The case had reminded Spencer more of Breeanna than he had like to admit, and seeing her here relieved him more than it should have.

"Oh, just a little excursion. Texas, actually."

"Oh, I love Texas! My granddaddy's brother has a cattle farm in Laredo!"

Spencer smiles, Breeanna's excitement lapping at him like waves at the shore. "So what are you up to here, Breeanna?"

She beams, showing all of her teeth. Spencer notes the small gap between her two top front teeth. "Just a bit of interior decoratin', that's all."

"What's on the paper?"

"They're all quotes. Diff'rent lengths, diff'rent authors, diff'rent subjects. I've been collectin' 'em for a long time now so I could decorate the store."

"Fascinating. Need some help?"

A devilish glint fills Breeanna's eyes. "Ya listen here, city boy. I know yer only tryin' to be polite, but remember this. A country girl is plenty capable of doin' things on 'er own. My mama raised me all on 'er own after my daddy left. I don't need any help, but I'll let ya help me just to keep ya entertained and feelin' useful. How 'bout that?"

Spencer nods, his eyes wide. "What can I do?"

"How 'bout ya hang a few? Pick a few ya like, hang 'em anywhere in the store ya want. Just not too close together or it starts to look dumb."

"Sure. And I brought some books in to be added to the shelves." He gestures to the bag on the floor, which Breeanna quickly takes around the back of the front counter.

"The music botherin' ya," she asks, starting to stack the books on the counter so they can be stamped with prices and prepped to hit the shelves.

"Not at all," Spencer murmurs, leafing through the small stack of quote strips. "This is your workplace; do as you please."

"If ya don't like it, I'll turn it off."

"It's fine. We can say that I'm broadening my horizons."

"Not a country fan?"

"Never really tried listening to it, or much of anything for that matter."

Breeanna smiles from behind the counter. "Boy, you done found yourself the best teacher in Quantico. I'll have yer horizons broadened by the end of the summer."

"Oh, will you? And why the end of summer?"

Breeanna shrugs. "After the summer's over, I'll be here less. Gotta go back to learnin' how to be a teacher."

"You want to teach?"

"High school English. I wanna teach the youth, try to enlighten 'em."

Spencer smiles and puts a quote that he likes aside. He continues to leaf through, reading each one in mere seconds despite the unfamiliar handwriting. "I bet you'll be a great teacher, Breeanna."

"Thank ya."

The last quote in the pile makes Spencer's heart skip a beat and his eyes well up. He immediatly turns away, not wanting Breeanna to see the weakness in him. He bites his lip, and his shoulders shake. There, in the lilting cursive script of Breeanna Rose Clemmins, is the quote that has the strength to bring Maeve's death right back to the surface of his mind and heart, a quote he had seen most recently in a book that he had raced through if only to return it to it's generous owner. "**That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt."**

Spencer's heart aches, and the tears that he's held in for so long threaten to spill over yet again. Pain demands to be felt, yes, and it is so consuming that it will take over your whole life if you let it.

But all Spencer can hear is that gunshot that killed his Maeve right in front of him. He'd been close. He'd been so close. All he can hear is that gunshot over and over, playing in his mind like a broken record. His hands go up to his face, wiping vigorously at his eyes so the tears won't make it down his face.

A gentle hand lays itself on his back. "Spencer?"

At first, Spencer doesn't hear. When the voice repeats his name, he thinks that it's Maeve. The third time his name is said is when he finally realizes that it isn't Maeve, isn't a figment of his grevious mind's imagination, but is Breeanna. "You alright, Spencer?"

Spencer nods, but then changes his mind and shakes his head. It's pretty obvious that he isn't alright, isn't it?

"Oh, ya poor thing. C'mon now, let's sit ya down. Ya need to sit. C'mon."

Breeanna takes Spencer's hand in hers, and he feels a sliver of comfort in the warmth of her skin on his. A hand to hold...

Breeanna pulls Spencer to the back of the store, to the set of cushioned chairs, and helps him sit down. "There ya go, Spencer. Now, do ya wanna talk about it?"

Spencer shakes his head, hunching himself forward so that Breeanna can't see his face. He shakes his head again and again, as if it is a metronome, keeping tune to some mournful tune.

"Alright, ya don't have to. Do ya have your cell phone on you?"

Spencer nods this time.

"Can I see it? I'm gonna call this Hotch guy ya mentioned last time and tell him that ya won't be back in today. Do ya want me to do that?"

Spencer nods and digs his phone out of his pants pocket. He holds it out in a shaking hand, and Breeanna takes it. "Ya just sit here, alright? I'll be right back, Spencer."

Spencer nods again, and Breeanna slips into the small alley outside the store, going through the extremely short number of contacts in Spencer's phone until she finds Hotch. Then, she presses the call button and waits.


	4. The Call

The Call

**"It's a life-changing thing to be in a position of needing help and being so lucky as to get it."**

**~Maura Tierney**

Breeanna leans her back against the cool wood of the shaded alley, Spencer's phone pressed to her ear. From her search through Spencer's contacts, she's concluded that he has no contacts other than his coworkers and his mother. So, after the so-called Hotch doesn't pick up, she decides to call the contact labeled Derek.

He, on the other hand, picks up in the middle of the second ring. "Pretty boy, where the hell are you? Lunch ended almost a half hour ago! Did you go see that girl at the bookstore again and lose track of time?" He softly chuckles.

Breeanna's cheeks go cherry red. "This ain't Pretty Boy. It's the girl from the bookstore."

There's a long silence from the other line. "I am _so _sorry. So what's up with Spencer?"

Breeanna has regained her composure by this point. "I don't really know... He was helpin' me decorate the store and was goin' through quotes to hang up. I was checkin' books in that he brought, and then when I turned back around he was 'bout ready to cry. Shakin', hands over his eyes. And when I tried to ask him if he was alright it was like he wasn't hearin' me until I repeated myself a bunch 'a times. It was like he wasn't even here."

Derek's voice is tense when he speaks. "Maeve."

"Huh? Maze?"

"Not 'maze', Maeve. Maeve's a person."

"And what about her?"

Derek sighs. "Spencer would kill me."

"I can't help the poor boy if I don't know what's goin' on in that mind of his, and he sure as hell ain't bein' of any help!"

Derek chuckles. "You have a good point, ma'am."

Breeanna scoffs. "Only my mama gets called ma'am. I'm Breeanna. Breeanna Rose Clemmins."

"Well, I'm Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you, Breeanna."

"Pleasure's all mine. Now who's this Maeve lady?"

"Spencer was in love with her. They only met in person once-I'll get to that in a second- but they talked so much. It started with her looking at x-rays of his brain because he was having these headaches and thought something was seriously wrong because no doctors were able to find anything, but it got more intimate over time. I think Spencer said it was something like 100 days worth of contact through letters and phone calls... But they were close, and they were in love. That's all that really matters.

"But Maeve, she was being stalked the whole time they were talking, but they thought it was her ex. They were scheduled to meet for dinner one night, but Spencer spotted the ex and told her not to come for her own safety. But then Maeve was abducted, and Spencer realized that he was wrong about the ex."

Goosepimples stand up on Breeanna's arms despite the heat of the day. She knows where this story is going to end now. "Who was it?" Her voice comes out as a small whisper, barely audible.

Derek takes a breath before he goes on. "It was her ex's girlfriend, Diane. She wanted to have Spencer's attention, to be treated by him like an equal. She gave him a clue that led him to Maeve's location. He tried to save her, he really tried. He tried to convince Diane to take him instead, and tried to convince her that he loved her and not Maeve, man, he tried.

"But she killed her. Diane put her head up against Maeve's and killed them both with a .45 calliber shot through their heads."

Tears run down Breeanna's face. She can't even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt him. "That poor boy."

"It really killed him... He didn't leave home for two weeks. He wouldn't even open the door. We had gift baskets piling up outside his apartment door. He wouldn't pick up his phone for a while. He dreamed of her to the point that he wouldn't sleep at night, and I don't know if that's still the case. He lost it when he lost her."

"Th-Thank ya, Derek. For telling me."

"You can't help him if you don't know. And at this point, I think you may be the only one who can get through to him."

"Why's that?"

"You're the only girl he's talked to since. And Maeve died months ago."

"O-Oh."

"Breeanna?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For joining the effort to help us get our Spencer back."

Breeanna smiles weakly, a few tears still making their courses down her cheeks. "No. The boy deserves help, and he's gon' get it if it's the last thing that I do."

"I'll be right here to help you. Before you give Spencer's phone back, take my number and put it in your phone. Call me if you ever need anything."

"Alright, will do. Thank ya."

"No, thank you. Bye now."

"Buh-bye."

Before she goes back inside, Breeanna wipes her eyes and copies Derek's number into her phone for safe keeping.


	5. Drowning

Drowning

**"There has never been a poet able to heal with words, nor accurately express with phrases, the pain of missing a lost loved one."**

**~Steve Maraboli**

Sitting in the stuffed chair in the back of the bookstore, Spencer once again slips into the deep, storming waters of his grief. His mind drags him down like an anchor tied around his ankle.

Just like that, he's facing her again, seeing her for the first time. His Maeve. He never thought that the two would meet like this, him unable to move from where he stands and a gun-weilding crazed fan of his ready to kill the girl he loves if he decides to. Why the hell can't he have a normal fan, just this once?

Despite the current situation, or perhaps because of it, Spencer takes a long moment to observe Maeve, trying to commit her face to his iedetic memory. He doesn't want to think about it, but this could be the very last time that he sees Maeve face to face. So he stops to take her in, and he knows that he was right before; she is indeed the most beautiful girl in the world.

Even in all of her fear, she is the most beautiful girl in the world to him. She is the girl that he spent ten months of his life on. She is the girl he stays up for nights on end just thinking about. She's the girl that signs her letters with quotes from her favorite philosophers, something that always brings a smile to Spencer's face, no matter how brutal the day has been to him, or how hard the case he is working on may be. This is his Maeve. This is the girl that he loves.

He wants so badly to reach out to her, to take her hand in his own and feel its warmth. He wants to hug her close to him. He wants to hold her, to make her feel safe again. He wants to save her, to be the hero that saves the girl from the bad guy and wins her too. More than anything, he just wants to _save her._

The words run through his mind on a constant cycle, growing more and more desperate. _Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her! Dammit, Spencer, SAVE HER!_

So he thinks. He lets Diane feel him up and kiss him even though it absolutely repulses him. He tries to lie, to tell her that Maeve means nothing to him, that he loves Diane instead. His mind is screaming at him, how dare he lie in such a way. How dare he not have the brains to be able to save her. Because even now, Spencer knows that he won't be able to save her. He doesn't want to believe it, but he knows, deep down.

Knowing makes his stomach churn. This is going to be the last chance he has to say to her the three words that she said to him, and he knows it. But he doesn't choose to say it. He doesn't choose to truly believe that this is the end. He'll save her. He has to. He _has to!_

Diane is back at Maeve's side now, and Spencer actually feels physical pain over Maeve's fear. She shakes badly, Diane holding her gun against her neck. "Thomas Merton," Maeve says, and Spencer's heartrate speeds up. He knows the end is coming, but all he can do is stand dumb while his mind races a thousand miles ahead of him. _Say it! Say it! Tell her you love her! _The words tear through his brain, but his mouth can't seem to utter them.

"Who's Thomas Merton," Diane asks, her voice high and anxious.

Spencer doesn't say a word, can't. His tongue is a useless piece of meat sitting idle in his mouth. "He knows," Maeve says, voice growing small. "He knows."

"Who's Thomas Merton?" No reply comes. "Who is he?"

"The one thing you can never take away from us," Maeve says. The words make Spencer's blood run cold. The end is growing nearer, and he can't say a word.

Diane places her head against Maeve's so that the two are temple to temple, and raises her gun to her own temple. Spencer watches how Maeve shakes, so fearful. All he wants to do is help her, but he can't. He can't be the hero, not this time. He's helpless, and this is his punishment for not figuring Diane out sooner.

"No," he says. He wants to scream it, but he only manages a voice just above a whisper.

Diane places her finger to the trigger, ready to pull. Spencer's heart falls to his shoes, and his mouth finally figures out how to shout. In vain, he cries, "WAIT!"

Diane pulls the trigger, and Spencer watches as both of them fall to the ground in a pool of blood. His eyes fall upon Maeve, her eyes closed almost as peacefully as in sleep. Her brown hair is stained red in the blood. She's gone.

Spencer falls to his knees, sobbing incontrollably. Hot tears run down his cheeks, and the world around him closes until there is only him. Maeve is dead. He was so close to saving her, so damned close. He should have saved her. He should have at least told her he loves her. It should have been him.

His loss is a deep ocean, and he a poor swimmer without a life jacket. He struggles against the current, but finds himself under the surface and spinning dizzily, beating off the rocks and struggling to breathe. He wants to extend a hand, but it seems to him that no one is there to take it, to pull him out of the grief threatening to suffocate him. He is alone.


	6. A Helping Hand

A Helpful Hand

AN: Sorry for the one little mistake last chapter; I realize now that Diane said "No," not Spencer. It's a small, unintentional mistake. Oopsies!

**"Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light."**

**~Norman B. Rice**

Breeanna comes back into the bookstore to find Spencer curled in the chair she left him in, his body curled and his eyes closed so tightly that she can't imagine it not being painful. She quietly sits in the chair beside his, and her hand moves to rest on his back. She rubs softly, just the way her mother used to do when she cried as a child.

Spencer stiffens at the touch, but slowly his muscles calm, and he lays in the chair so that his head rests on the two armrests. Breeanna smiles and smoothes his long brown curls from his face, though she allows the tears to continue to flow down his cheeks.

The two sit in silence for a long time, Breeanna alternating between rubbing Spencer's back and smoothing his hair as he continues to cry. After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. "I feel like I'm drowning."

Hearing Spencer speak brings some relief to Breeanna, and she does all she can not to sigh out of said relief. "What was that, sugar? Ya talk so quiet."

Spencer swallows the bale in his throat and tries again. "I feel like I'm drowning."

Breeanna slips her hand that isn't rubbing Spencer's back into his hand closest to her and squeezes his fingers. "There ya go, sugar."

Spencer looks up at Breeanna, his eyes filled with a childish sort of curiosity as well as a deep sadness. Breeanna finds herself lost in his eyes for a second. "Ya can't drown if you've got someone to hold ya up, Spencer. Think a me like yer very own life vest. I'll hold ya up."

Spencer's cheeks redden. "Why? You barely know me."

"Everybody needs someone willin' to help them along when things get rough."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Boy, for bein' upset, you're sharp as a tack. Impressive."

"Answer?"

"..."

"Breeanna?"

Breeanna sighs. "Darn, sugar, ya can't just ask a girl to spill out her guts like it's nothin'."

"S-sorry. You don't have to tell me anything..."

Breeanna shakes her head. "Now that ya asked, I do." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "I didn't just move up to Quantico to go ta school. My mama, she was sick, real sick. She fought the cancer real hard, but it was just too strong for her. She was weak from the poor life she'd had from the start; she was dealt an awfully ugly set a cards in this life, I'll tell ya.

"My mama died my junior year a high school, when I was out at my prom. I didn't even want ta go that night, but she and my auntie made me. I came home ta find total chaos. Almost everybody in the damned county was lined up an' down the street, and there I was, the daughter a the deceased, and the last ta show.

"They made me move in with my auntie 'til I was finished with school and was a legal adult. I worked shifts at diners and farms for three years 'til my auntie was ready ta let me go and I had the money ta get myself inta school here and buy myself a run-down apartment. This girl ain't one for handouts, 'specially when there ain't no one around to give a handout; I was born into one of the poorest families to ever grace the land of Arkansas.

"So here I am, twen'y-four and workin' in a book store to get myself through college cuz my mama died and I ain't got nothing back home worth stayin' 'round for. I'm gonna be the first Clemmins lady to work herself through ta graduate college. I'm gonna be the first, ya can bet yer life on that."

Breeanna's eyes are brimmed with tears, but she won't let them flow.

"You can cry, you know," Spencer murmurs.

"No, Spencer, I can't. I've gotten up and gotten back on the saddle, and I'll tell ya, cowgirls don't cry. That's the biggest rule in bein' a cowgirl: don't ya dare cry. I spent so much time cryin', and now I'm done. So, no, I can't cry. I just can't."

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"Besides, right now ain't the time for everythin' to be focused on me. Right now is time for you. We can't just let ya drown, now, can we?"

Spencer blushes and hides his face. Breeanna smiles and stands. "Let's get ya home, now, sugar. Ya need an afternoon to relax."

"But my car is still at work, and the team..."

Breeanna smiles. "I talked ta Derek and got ya out of the rest of the day at work. I bet he wouldn't mind drivin' yer car back to yer place after work."

"But I need to go back to work."

"No, ya don't, and yer not gonna. I been through this, Spencer, and I know what ya need better than you do. Ya need to back off and work on repairing yerself instead a just divin' inta yer work."

Spencer sighs, knowing there's no use fighting this Southern girl. "Fine. How am I getting home though?"

Breeanna smiles and pulls Spencer up by his hand. Without a word, she leads him to her car and opens the passenger side door for him. Spencer doesn't even have his seatbelt on when Breeanna pulls her little Volkswagen into the middle of traffic.


	7. A Day Off

A Day Off

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for not posting for so long! I was a bit stuck for where to go with this, and I also took some time to work on my original story, which I was seemingly neglecting to work on this.

**"Friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief."**

**~Marcus Tullius Cicero**

Breeanna takes no time in making Spencer's apartment into her place. She finds a radio tucked away in the back of the living room and plugs it in the kitchen. Country music plays, this time at a more reasonable level, as she rummages through Spencer's cupboards, pulling out any food she thinks she can manipulate into something close to a proper meal. "When's the last time ya went shoppin'?"

Spencer looks up from the couch, but does not speak. His brown eyes are filled with pain, and Breeanna can't help but get lost in them again. Lost in his eyes, all she wants to do is hold him close and chase away his pain. Sadly, though, grief doesn't work that way; that would be much too simple.

"Are ya hungry, sugar," she asks. Again, she is met with only a look from Spencer. Breeanna sighs deeply. "Fine. I'll make ya somethin' anyway."

Pots and pans clatter together as Breeanna tears through every cabinet in sight, laying anything she thinks she may need on the small amount of counter space. She doesn't find much, but it's enough for the two to survive on: white rice, some black chicken wing sauce from whatever Chinese leftovers he had left, and a few uncooked chicken breasts, plus pans and butter.

Spencer watches Breeanna prep the food and start to cook, unable to bring his eyes away from her. Leaving her boots in the doorway, she dances on the tile floor in her socks. Her singing is terribly off-key, but she sings to every song, sliding this way and that to tend to the food.

Breeanna sets two plates of chicken and rice on the coffee table. Spencer stares at it for a long time before he picks up his plate and takes a small bite, barely more than a nibble. He chews and swallows, then starts jamming food down his throat.

Breeanna laughs. "Ya like it?"

Spencer speaks around a mouthful of rice. "I haven't had a homemade meal since the last time I went home to Vegas."

"Vegas, eh? What made you come all the way to Quantico, then?"

"My mom has schitzophrenia and is in constant medical care. I had to get her checked into her current facility when I was 18. I just wanted to make her proud, because she saw so much potential in me..."  
Breeanna smiles. "Ya sound like a mama's boy. My mama would love ya to pieces, if she were still here."

"I'm really sorry about your mom. I don't know what I would do without my mother."

"How often do you see her?"

"It's...spotty. Work makes it that way. But I write her every day."

"Why not go down there for Christmas or something?"

Spencer stutters, trying to find the answer. "Why don't you call her? I bet she would love to hear from you, and I bet it would make you feel better."

"How do you know?"

"Because whenever I'm really sad, all I wanna do is call my mama. Mamas are magic, ya know. They know how to fix every ouchie there is."

"Did you seriously just say 'ouchie?'"

"Yeah, I did. Now hush up. No need to be rude to the girl who just made you dinner."

"Sorry."

"Finish up and call yer mama, will ya?"

Spencer nods, and goes on stuffing his face.


End file.
